


Five Times She Kicked Him Out

by grrriliketigers



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grrriliketigers/pseuds/grrriliketigers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For closerficfest 2014 | Five times she kicked him out, one time she let him stay</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times She Kicked Him Out

The Car

The door opened and the overhead light caused Sharon to cover her eyes as Jackson slid into the car. Sharon grimaced as she stared at Jackson in the dimming dome light. “Did you _bathe_ in rum?”

Jackson laughed and leaned over to kiss her. 

She put her hand up in front of her face and his lips landed on her palm. He looked hurt and she sighed, “kissing you right now would be akin to drinking.” She touched her stomach protectively. “I’d rather not give our child fetal alcohol poisoning.” 

“Thanks for coming to get me.” He drawled. 

“Put your seatbelt on.” Sharon rolled her eyes as she put the car into gear and indicated that she was turning out of the parking lot. “Like I was just going to leave you here.” 

“Just one little kiss, Shar." Jackson grabbed for her again and she swatted him away. 

"You said that after work you were going to come home." Sharon gripped the steering wheel. 

"One of the partners invited me to go out with them," Jackson insisted, "it was work!" 

"And how big of an idiot were you?" 

"I wasn't..." 

Sharon scowled. "We have a baby on the way, Jack."

"I know that." 

"And I need you to consider how your actions affect me and affect this baby every once in a while."

"I do, Sharon." He insisted. 

"I need you to be present. I know we didn't plan on this but I need you to not be checked out." 

"I'm not!" 

"I need you to stop going out and getting drunk every night."

He scoffed. "Just 'cause you can't anymore you want to ruin it for everybody."

"Is that what you think? That I'm being a hypocrite? That I'm jealous?" 

"Hey, if the stiletto fits, honey." He held up his hands. 

"Unbelievable." She shook her head. "I'm not, in any way, denying that a lot of nights in college I drank my weight in beer - ”

“Yeah, I remember,” Jackson grinned. “I walked into that party at Pi Psi and you were chugging a pint with one of the guys - they always treated you like one of the guys, not like one of the sorority girls, they respected you. I liked that - and you’re so beautiful and smart and I fell in love with you that night.”

“Yeah, well,” Sharon sighed, “we’re not in college anymore.” 

“Doesn’t mean you had to stop being fun.” Jackson grumbled. 

“ _Excuse me_ if I think that my responsibility to _our child_ takes precedence over going out every night and getting shitfaced.” 

“You’re excused.” Jackson shrugged, “hey, at least I’ll always have a DD, right?” 

Sharon threw on her blinker and pulled into a fire lane. “Get out.” 

Jackson laughed, “come on, Shar.” 

“I am deadly serious. Get out of my car.” 

He stopped laughing when he caught her eye. “I’m not getting out here…”

“It is the middle of the night. I am tired. I am sore all over and the smell of booze and cigar smoke emanating from you is making me nauseous. If, given my physical discomfort and the fact that you woke me up to come get you, you have the audacity to be ungrateful, then I am telling you to get out of my car.” 

“I _said_ thank you.” He insisted incredulously. 

“Those are just words, Jackson.” She smirked. “Don’t sit there and pretend that you think you’re being nice to me. Neither of us is stupid enough to believe that.” 

“ _I said thank you_.” He repeated more insistently. 

“You have lost all interest in me since I got pregnant.” 

He scoffed, “that’s not true. Have you forgotten last night already?” 

“I don’t mean sexually, I mean _as a person_.” Sharon snapped. “You never ask me how I’m feeling. You never held back my hair when I had morning sickness. You never ran me a bath just because you thought I looked tired. You stopped spending time with me; you’ve stopped coming home before midnight entirely.” 

“Sharon... I love you.” He put a hand on her forearm and she shrugged him off. 

“Don’t touch me.” She reached up to wipe at her wet eyes. “Get out of my car. I won’t say it again - I’ll just scream.” 

“Sharon - ”

Sharon let out a high pitched scream and Jackson scrambled for the door handle. “I’m going, I’m going, see?” He stepped out of the car, still holding the car door. 

“Let go of the car.” 

“So, I’ll see you at home?” He asked tentatively as he closed the door. 

As soon as it latched she pulled back into traffic, leaving Jackson in a figurative cloud of dust. “Well...” he said to no one in particular. He looked up at the night sky. “Good night for a walk, I guess.”

The Picnic

Sharon emerged from the bathroom, putting in her earrings and skidded to a halt in front of Jackson. "What are you wearing?"

"Isn't this great?" He chuckled. "it says LAPD: Los Angeles Poker Department."

"Yeah, I can read." She narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Because I play poker." 

"No, I _get_ it."

He smiled lopsidedly, "just thought maybe you didn't because you didn't laugh..." 

"Take it off." Sharon sighed, "you can't wear that." 

"What? Why?" He demanded. 

"Because you look stupid!" She snapped. 

" _My_ shirt looks stupid and _yours_ doesn't?" He motioned to her navy blue tank top emblazoned with the LAPD emblem. 

"No. Because _I_ work or the LAPD..." She paused, "do you see how that works?"

"I'm just trying to be supportive." Jackson grumbled. 

"It doesn't come off supportive. It comes off like you're making fun of the LAPD and you shouldn't wear it to an _LAPD_ picnic. Right?" 

He scuffed his foot. 

" _Right_?" She repeated. 

He shrugged noncommittally. 

Sharon sighed heavily. "Either take it off or you're not coming with me." 

He crossed his arms and attempted to stare her down. Sharon wasn't going to budge. 

“Sharon. It’s funny. It’s a funny shirt.” 

“No, you know what that says to me? That says that you don’t respect me or what I do. Because - let me be clear - _what I do_ is the only think that keeps us in the black and feeds and clothes our children.” Jackson attempted to interject and Sharon continued, “can you please just do this one thing for me and change your shirt?”

He put his hands on her shoulders and she scowled. “Shar, you really need to lighten up.” 

She grunted her displeasure, pushing his hands away and snapping in anger, “ _get out of my face_.” 

“Sharon…”

“I don’t want to see your face for the rest of the day. Just…” her voice cracked and a few tears slid down her cheeks. “Just get out please.”

The House

The front door clanged open, slamming into the wall, narrowly avoiding smashing the glass of a photo frame. Jackson froze for a moment, waiting to hear if his arrival had disturbed the household.

The baby started to cry and the light came on under the door of his and Sharon’s bedroom and he sighed heavily. He dropped his keys onto the table resignedly awaiting his wife’s angry response. 

Sharon emerged from the bedroom, wrapping her robe tightly around her body as their daughter opened her own door. 

“Momma?” 

“Go back to bed, Rosie.” 

“Ricky’s crying.” She pouted, “there was a loud noise.” 

“Maybe Ricky would like it if you went in and read him a story?” Sharon smiled, “would you do that for momma?” 

“Kay.” Rosemary disappeared into her room for a moment, reappearing with her book of fairy tales. 

Sharon waited until Rosemary closed the door to Ricky’s room behind her before she went downstairs. She fixed Jackson with the iciest glare she could muster. 

He quirked a sheepish smile at her and gave a little wave. “Hey Sharon.” 

“What is your problem?” She hissed, walking up to him and stepping into his personal space. 

He tried to back away but his back hit the wall and Sharon effectively had him pinned. 

“What?” He asked, trying to be nonchalant. 

“It is three in the morning. I have work tomorrow and your daughter has school. It’s one thing not to be helpful but to actively be a hinderance - ”

“Hey!”

Sharon forged ahead, “displays a deep selfishness and a complete lack of regard for anyone else” 

“Whoa, there, Sharon, that’s not fair.” 

“ _Not. fair?_ ” She repeated slowly and with an emphasis that made him realize his choice of words was a mistake - a very grave mistake. 

“What is not fair is asking our daughter to comfort our son so I can come down and make sure you’re not too drunk to be around the kids. Not fair is having my credit card declined buying _groceries_ because you’re using our joint funds to _gamble_.” The ire in Sharon’s voice was rising with each listed offense and Jackson was getting antsier to escape. “Not fair is your daughter thinking you don’t come home because you don’t like her.” 

“Sharon can we…?”

“Your son knows twenty words and not one of them is dad.” 

Jackson put his hands on his steaming wife’s shoulders, trying to calm her a little. “Sharon, honey, can we take this upstairs? I have a splitting headache and I’m so tired.” 

“No.” Sharon scoffed. “We’re not taking this upstairs. You are not going upstairs” 

“Honey,” he pleaded, giving her shoulders a squeeze. 

She shrugged him off and held up her hands defensively, “don’t touch me.” Jackson breathed a little easier when she took a small step backwards. 

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “I’ll make up the couch.” 

“No.You’re not staying here tonight.” 

He blinked at her. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own goddamn house?” 

“Keep your voice down.” Sharon warned. 

“You can’t do that.” 

“Want to bet?” She narrowed her eyes, her nostrils flaring with anger again. 

He thought about it for a moment and decided not to bet against the woman who carried a gun, had perfect marksmanship, worked out regularly and could summon fifty uniformed officers in under fifteen minutes. 

He held up his hands, “alright.” 

“You get out of this house and you don’t come back until you’re ready to be the dad that our kids need. I’m done trying to guess when you’ll be home and seeing the looks of disappointment on our kids’ faces. I am done.” 

“I said _alright_ , Sharon,” Jackson snapped.

The Apartment

“Why is dad here?” Ricky asked quietly when he found Sharon in the kitchen, trying not to wake his softly snoring father.

Sharon glanced at the couch and sighed, “he needed a place to sleep last night.” 

“And he knows mom’s a pushover.” Rosemary added as she gulped the last swig of orange juice from her glass and set it in the sink. 

“That’s enough of that,” Sharon shooed them away, “go finish getting ready, you have to be out the door in _fifteen minutes_.” 

“I’m going, I’m going.” Rosemary groaned, ascending the stairs. 

Sharon put the sandwiches in their respective lunch boxes, topping lunch off with apples and carrot sticks and, finally, the juice box version of Yoohoos - her one concession. 

Rosemary came back into the kitchen in her school uniform and opened her lunchbox, finding the usual fare. “Can’t we buy lunch for once? Do you know how embarrassing it is to eat _carrot sticks_ in high school?” 

“You’re more than welcome to wake your father up and ask him for lunch money because I don’t have any. I spent all my spare money this month on luxuries like the electric bill.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. She did this knowing that Sharon was doing her best, knowing that money was incredibly tight, knowing that Jackson did next to nothing to help her out. Eyes locked with Sharon’s she knew that she appreciated everything Sharon did for her to keep her comfortable and happy. But then again being a teenager was not dictated by logic or reason and brought with it a large degree of ingratitude and Sharon knew this. 

Rosemary crossed around to the front of the couch. “ _Hey dad_.”

Jackson startled awake and coughed a little before pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes. “Hey kiddo.”

“Can I have some money for hot lunch at school?” Rosemary crossed her arms across her chest. 

Jackson reached into his back pocket for his wallet and opened it up only to find the billfold empty. “Had a bad night at the tables last night. Catch me next time.” 

“Whatever.” 

As Rosemary headed for the door she took the lunchbox that Sharon was holding out for her. “Thanks mom.” 

“Have a good day, sweetie.” 

Once both Rick and Rosemary had left the apartment, bound for the carpool to St. Joseph’s, she turned to Jackson. “I have to be at work by 9:30.” 

He laid back down on the couch and covered his eyes with his arm. “No problem, I’ll just sleep for a while and let myself out later.” 

“No.” Sharon said firmly, grabbing the pillow from underneath his head, causing him to bump his head on the hard arm. 

“Hey!” He sat up with a scowl. 

"Get up and get ready to be out the door in twenty minutes." 

"What, are you saying you don't trust me?" 

"That's exactly what I'm saying." She put her hands on her hips. "I don't want to come home and find that you've run off with my grandmother's jewelry."

"Come on, Shar, you know me!" 

"Yes, I do." She sighed. "And that's part of the problem."

"Sharon..." 

"You're an addict, Jack. Above everything else, you’re an addict. It doesn’t matter if you _want_ to be a good father or _want_ to be a trustworthy person. As long as you have a habit to feed there's going to be collateral damage." 

He stared at her stunned. "Sharon... I love you and the kids!" 

Sharon laughed sardonically. "I know you do - but only on your terms. Your kids need more than that."

There was tense silence in the room before Sharon spoke again. "On your feet." 

He got to his feet slowly, joints creaking as he pushed himself up. “Don’t suppose you could spare me a couple bucks? Or a sandwich?”

Sharon folded her arms and pursed her lips. 

“You know that look doesn’t _actually_ pierce skin, right?” 

“Jackson. Please. I have to finish getting ready for work.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

The Precinct

“No!” Sharon skidded to a halt upon seeing Jackson in the doorway to her office. She pivoted on her heel. “No, no, no…”

“Hey Sharon.” Jackson grinned, starting after her. 

“No, Jackson. No. I don’t have time for you right now.” 

"You didn't even hear what I had to say." Jackson objected. 

She stopped short and Jackson collided with her. "It does not . Whatever it is I _do not have time_." 

She started off down the hallway before muttering, "shit..." she turned to face him again. “Unless it’s about one of the kids… is it about the kids.” 

Jackson nodded. 

She looked around and pushed open the door to a nearby conference room. “We can talk in here.” 

As soon as the door latched Jackson held up his hands, “okay, don’t get mad but it doesn’t have anything to do with the kids.” 

“Jackson!” Sharon scoffed. “That was a horrible thing to do to me!” 

“Hold on, just hear me out. It _is_ important.” He approached his fuming wife with caution.

“ _What_?” She demanded. 

“I have this really great opportunity to earn a ton of money and I can pay you the child support I probably shoulda been paying you. I just need some money for the buy-in.” 

“ _Forget it_.” Sharon stared at him incredulously. 

“I just need a couple thousand and I’ll pay you back tenfold!” He insisted. 

“ _Not a chance in hell._ ” Sharon snapped. “Not even if pigs fly and hell freezes over.”

“I never asked you for my half of when you sold the house.” 

Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s the card you want to play right now?”

“You’re kinda forcing my hand.” He smirked. 

“ _In-credible_.” She laughed disbelievingly and shook her head, “I used your half toward that ‘child support you should’ve been paying.’ If you want that money ask your kids for their school tuition or the clothes and shoes they kept growing out of or their three square meals a day.” 

“Okay, okay.” He paused for a moment to regroup. “I know I’ve been a shit husband and a shit father but this is something I can do. If I just get into the tournament I can with the pot. I just need a teeny tiny little investment from you.” 

“No. I’m one hundred percent done investing in you. My credit is excellent now that I’ve shaken your finances loose of mine once and for all, I’m actually _saving_ money for myself and the kids.” 

He opened his mouth to speak but she continued unabated. “You think some hypothetical money prize, that you probably wouldn’t win anyway, is somehow going to magically fix our relationship? Or your relationship with the kids? Why don’t you try taking an interest in them and their hobbies? Why don’t you try stopping by to see them without wanting something? You don’t think they know you just stop by to sleep off hangovers or catch a nap because you’re ‘between homes?’ Our kids are not stupid, Jackson. And, you know, for the record, neither am I. I’m not falling for your bullshit anymore, Jack.” 

Sharon was pleased with herself that she had rendered him speechless. He’d better be speechless. They both knew that he didn’t have a leg to stand on in this area. 

“So… goodbye.” She nodded towards the door. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The Condo

Sharon looked through the peephole and sighed heavily seeing Jackson and an armload of groceries on the other side.

She opened the door and leaned against the doorframe tiredly. "Yes?"

"Hey hon," he smiled. "Let me in and I'll make pancakes."

"Jackson... it is four in the morning..." Sharon sighed with resignation. “I… just… have neither the energy nor the patience for you right now, so…” 

“Rick called me.” Jackson said softly. 

“He did?” 

“Yeah, he did. Thought I might want to know, I guess.” He shifted the groceries to his other arm. “And I know it’s late but this was as fast as I could get here.” 

“Why did you come?” She asked softly, focusing on a scratch on the edge of the door. 

“I didn’t want you to have to be alone tonight.” 

She let out a shaky breath, reaching up and wiping tears from her eyes. “You came all this way because you knew I was sad?”

“If you don’t want me to come in, I’ll go.” Jackson said gently. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was. Your dad was a good man." 

A sob caught in Sharon's throat. "My dad died..." 

He set down the canvas bag and stepped forward to hug her and she folded into his arms, no longer able to hold back her tears. 

He held her tightly as she finally succumbed to the tears she'd been holding back since she got the call. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back and held for who knows how long before she straightened up. 

“Buckwheat banana pancakes?” She asked, chest still heaving with the effort to hold back tears. 

“Of course.” 

“And real maple syrup?” She sniffled. 

“Would I give you anything but the best?” 

She looked up at him and covered her face to keep from laughing too loudly. He quirked a lopsided smile. “Alright. I gave you the kids though, that has to pull up my average, right?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say you _gave me_ the kids.” Sharon opened the door further, closing it behind him once he was through. “I think, technically, via standard verbiage, I gave _you_ the kids.” 

“Tomato-Tomahto.” He teased, setting up the ingredients on the counter as she sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. 

She watched him busy himself with his _specialité de la maison_. 

He hummed as he worked and she leaned on her elbow on the cool marble countertop. “Jackson?” She said softly. 

“Can I get you something, honey?” He looked up from mashing the banana. 

She smiled a little. “ _Thank you_.”


End file.
